


Want

by HotGoatCheese



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Dipper tries to be smooth, F/M, Fantasizing, Guilt, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Bullying, Incest, Laughter During Sex, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Penis Size, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Rimming, Stan actually resorts to swearing in front of children a couple times, Those tags should really say Grunkle but I'm sticking with pre-existing tags mostly, Uncle/Nephew Incest, Uncle/Niece Incest, Unhealthy Relationships, and more tags to come for the stanbel chapter, holy shit that tag already exists!, implied/referenced past prostitution, lots and lots of praise though, maybe a little? I'm not sure it quite qualifies as kink, maybe a touch of stangst?, over-tagging out of an abundance of caution, post 1X15: The Deep End, stray reference to Carla McCorckle, with a surprisingly high success rate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:22:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotGoatCheese/pseuds/HotGoatCheese
Summary: Stan is attracted to the twins from minute one and hates himself for it because. Well. Obvious reasons. He's Stan Pines, which means he's able to keep those feelings under lock and key and there's not a  single outward sign of them. But sometimes he fantasizes about them. When he's alone in his room and taking matters into his own hand. And if he lets go a little bit and says one of their names? It's not like they're standing around listening or anything.at least not usually.





	1. Dipstan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anysin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anysin/gifts).



> Uncreative title is uncreative because when everything is ready but the title, you go with what you've got. 
> 
> This is a Christmas Gift to Anysin. Thank you, friend. Without you this account would not exist.  
> Merry Christmas, and please be patient with the second chapter, it might be a while.

Stanley Pines had an excellent poker face. That had served him well this week, the first time he saw his great-nephew shirtless. Stan hid his reaction well, almost perfectly. He just wished he could have hidden it from himself. What kind of sick freak was he? Oh he’d known for a while that he thought his niblings were beautiful in a way he shouldn’t. Hell, their first night here he’d been so stressed about the idea of their visit that, when he opted for some solo stress relief he couldn’t stop thinking about them. To his horror, it had helped. Those fantasies had been occurring since then, and Stan had probably jerked off more since their arrival in Gravity Falls then in the last several years combined.

It’d been inevitable that he’d do it again tonight from the moment Dipper had stripped off his ever-present vest and red shirt. Stan held out well past the end of the day, only giving in to the urge once he was in bed after enough hours to nearly fill a full second day’s work on the portal. Within moments of closing his hand on his cock he was wondering what Dipper’s skin would taste like. How the boy would handle the roughness of Stan’s stubble scraping against his chest as Stan teased a nipple with his tongue. He wondered how long Dipper could take it if Stan just went about worshiping his rail-thin, pale body the way it deserved. He tried to imagine the sounds he could get the boy to make and found himself making one of his own. A low moan, and within it, a name.

“Dipper.” 

Dipper heard his name. 

It was almost five in the morning, and he hadn’t slept a wink. His mind was too busy. Not the good kind of busy that led to research and ideas and productivity. Just, twisting in circles over nothing and keeping him up with less than nothing to show for it. So at what seemed like a semi-reasonable hour for the perpetually early riser that was Stan Pines, Dipper had gotten out of bed and headed toward his grunkles bedroom to wake him and maybe suggest making a big breakfast for Mabel. She’d had a rough couple days with the whole Mermando thing. Typically, you don’t call the events up to and including a first kiss “a rough couple days” but the object of that first kiss had both almost died and then left forever. So, Mabel deserved something special. 

For a second, Dipper thought Stan heard him coming and the name was an acknowledgement, if not an invitation. He reached up to open the door, then froze, doorknob in hand, already turned. His stomach twisted and sent heat pooling through his abdomen and below. That...that wasn’t an acknowledgement or invitation, was it? Stan had pronounced his name like...like it’d been a moan. A sound the small bit of romantic in Dipper would call sacred and the rest knew was simply carnal. Stan said his name the way he’d said the names of heroines from mystery novels or lady action heroes, or in one memorable incident earlier this summer, Wendy. The way he only spoke when Mabel was sound asleep or downstairs late working on one project or another. The way he sounded when…

Dipper thought about just turning and leaving. Then he thought about how he’d have felt if Wendy had walked in that night. Hearing her name and thinking it was a call and seeing… and he’d just have died of humiliation, wouldn’t he? But by now the part of his brain that worked without actually telling him what it was doing had concluded that the twisting heat slicing through him was excitement. He could still hear Stan through the door, breathing labored. It wasn’t hard to picture what he was doing. The heat spread across Dipper’s face and ears and he dropped his head against the hand on the doorknob. 

This was wrong. Being attracted to Stan was fundamentally wrong, and Stan being attracted to him was worse. They were family and Stan was old and...Stan wanted him, didn’t he? And maybe that’s the reason Dipper felt so good about all this. Stan is tough, tough on him in particular. Broad and strong and Dipper had never thought of just how his grunkle could use that strength if he wanted. He was shaking. It explained a lot, if Stan wanted him. He’d been the figurative schoolboy pulling Dipper’s equally figurative pigtails. So Dipper was...flattered didn’t cover it. Dipper wanted to taste it. To feel Stan’s approval and outright desire without a door between them. So he pushed that door open. 

His mouth went dry at the sight. At a glance, it was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Stan was flat on his back in his tank top and boxers and Dipper felt a slight pang of disappointment that vanished when he saw… 

Look. The internet is a thing, and sometimes things pop up and if no one has told you those things cause viruses you click on them sometimes. A good firewall kept those things from doing any real damage, and also kept small boys from satiating their curiosity. Which lead to learning how to use incognito windows to search things he’d never want his family seeing he’d looked for, or at. Dipper’s attention had rarely been on the men in those pictures and videos, but it was hard to miss their sheer size. Stan wasn’t...that big. Dipper was smart enough to know that porn didn’t set realistic expectations for either gender. But if Dipper had seen someone Stan’s size in such a video, while small for the genre, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. 

Stan had his boxers pulled low, so his, admittedly only proportionally large cock and balls hung out over the waistband. He had one hand around the former and his movements were smooth and practiced and nothing at all like the lazy strokes Dipper used to get himself off. His stomach burned and his shorts were rapidly becoming much too tight. His breathing cut off entirely when he remembered vague descriptions of how men having sex with men worked. That...there was no way. Stan would literally break him in two. Except, he wouldn’t. Because Dipper had just thought of how strong Stan really is and if Stan ever wanted to hurt him, he’d have done it already. No, No, Grunkle Stan would never hurt him. Somehow, he’d make it good. 

When Stan noticed Dipper standing there, for a fraction of a second he thought it was his imagination being particularly vivid. Then he realized he would never imagine Dipper looking at him like that. Stone-cold terrified. Shit, shit he’d heard his name and probably thought Stan was calling him and now found him like this and shit. His hand worked without his say-so, a few more pumps and friction around his cock while making eye contact with Dipper could have sent Stan over the edge then and there and what would Dipper think of him then? Nothing worse than he thought now, most likely. The worst part was that the fear didn’t last. He’d have thought, when he first saw Dipper looking at him in terror like that, that he would pay money to put another expression on his face. Any other expression. He’d have been wrong, because the soft look that came over Dipper was so much worse. The small smile, the unflinching trust. 

Stan was a monster. 

“What the hell are you doing in here?” he snapped. Shift the blame, just like he always did. Why not? Curse in front of the kid while he’s at it, can’t scar him any worse. 

Dipper looked conflicted. Stan’s hand stilled. Why wasn’t he turning and running? Stan had sent Dipper scampering with less gruff tones then he’d managed just now. Dipper was looking at him, at all of him, and Stan knew he should pull up his boxers and tuck himself away but he was frozen on the spot and maybe that had happened to Dipper too? But, as he held Dipper’s gaze he saw many emotions cross the boys face and among them, oh god, among them was desire. Stan’s cock jumped in his hand when Dipper looked at him like that, and he lost all ability to breathe or think when Dipper straightened to his full height. He was fully dressed, vest and all, lacking nothing but shoes. Then, Dipper started approaching the bed. 

“What?” Dipper said as he came closer, step by step. “Enjoying the fantasy but the real thing isn’t good enough for you?” 

This was a dream. There was no other answer. 

When Dipper saw the way his words affected Stan, the way the red across his cheeks deepened and spread down his face and up over his ears, the way his hand seemed to involuntarily flex around his cock, the blank, longing way Stan was looking at him… god what a thrill. Just a rush of pure power and self-satisfaction and yep, he was definitely hard. 

He walked to the edge of the bed, ignoring the voice in his head screaming about how wrong this was, and took a deep breath to dispeel his nervousness. When Stan spoke, his voice was even rougher and lower than normal. Given that the words were “You don’t mean that.” Dipper could assume that Stan didn’t mean for his voice to slice through Dipper like a hot knife and twist his insides in the best way and oh, oh Dipper wasn’t nervous anymore. Whether he’d meant to or not, Stan had challenged him. Challenged him to prove himself. His intentions, his worth as a man. Dipper pulled himself onto the bed beside his grunkle, holding his gaze the whole time. 

Stan watched Dipper change from shy and thrilled and everything a child experiencing an early case of purely sexual attraction should be (and Stan could dissect how he felt about being on the receiving end of that look in the first place later) into something altogether more mature. Something hungry, almost predatory. Determined, prey in his sights and Stan had no time to react to the change before Dipper closed the distance between them. Dippers lips were soft and Stan could have cried. 

Stan was still for very nearly too long. Dipper held the kiss, just, light pressure against Stan’s rough lips and felt a wave of panic wash over him. Had he misread the situation? Maybe that hadn’t even been his name he’d heard, maybe he was making a total idiot of himself, or worse then an idiot he’d…

Dipper didn’t have the chance to spiral before Stan grabbed him. How had he never noticed how big Stan’s hands were before? He hadn’t, not until one was pressed hard into the center of his back, warmth spreading across multiple layers of clothing and through Dipper’s entire body as suddenly there was tongue and Dipper’s mouth fell open even as Stan’s tongue pushed through, heedless of invitation. Dipper melted against the show of Stan’s power. He could only hope to give half as much as what he was getting, tracing his tongue over Stan’s while the later forcefully pressed it back, tasting and taking and Dipper was elated. 

Stan had never exactly treated Dipper like he was fragile. As a matter of fact, he’d always been some manner of brutal. Dipper shouldn’t be surprised he kissed no differently. It was so rare though, for someone to treat Dipper like something...strong. Something that wouldn’t break if glanced at wrong. Those that did treated him like something to be prodded and discarded. Ugly words cobbled clumsily together into sticks and stones and no care for anything but seeing whether they would hurt the weird little freak or not. Never, ever, had Dipper felt...desired, and trusted. Held accountable for his own durability in the face of being taken because he was wanted. People talk about being treated like a toy like it’s a bad thing, but as Dipper’s mind raced while he desperately tried to return the kiss, he couldn’t for a moment imagine why. 

Dipper whined. High and desperate and Stan let go of him. For a moment, he hoped he’s scared the kid off. Hopes that Dipper has seen this isn’t some peck on the lips at a middle school dance he was offering, it was something real, and adult, and oh. No, no he hadn’t. He was still looking at Stan like...like that. It hurt. That openness, that affection, that desire and worst of all that trust. Dipper shouldn’t look at him like that. “You need to go.” he said softly, and he regretted it the moment he did. Not only for himself, for the opportunity he was passing on, but for the way Dippers whole expression just crumpled. 

Stan may as well have hit him. Dipper probably would have felt better about it if Stan had just hit him. This was so much worse because...because why? Had he been wrong after all? No, not after that kiss. After that kiss Dipper was positive that Stan wanted him so why…

Oh.

Well look at that, Stan Pines with a moral compass. Who saw that coming? Not Dipper. It was true though, Dipper was only twelve and Stan was old and Dipper had already been over the reasons this was wrong and dismissed them based on his own desires. What about Stan’s fears though? The answer, it seemed to Dipper, would be finding a way to express his own lack of fear. In fact, the last of any uncertainty he had unravelled. The voice in his mind telling him it was wrong had quieted. Once he’d realized what it was, Stan’s fear was actually comforting. Dipper had been right, Stan would never hurt him. But how can he express that? He smiled gently as the answer came to him. “But I won’t.” and then he leaned in and kissed Stan again.

Big mistake.

Stan wasn’t demanding this time, in fact, he was very nearly pliant. His lips parted under Dippers and it was Dippers turn to explore his mouth and he was so much more aware this time that Stan tasted like old coffee with a hint of some salty snack or another and when Stan began returning the kiss, tongue tangling with Dippers, it all went straight to his cock. His cock which was currently straining against his shorts, painfully hard. He closed his eyes and powered through, the kiss was too good to break over a little thing like an inconvenient erection. It was not, however, so good, that he didn’t break it for a much more pressing reason. 

Oh the kiss lasted a good several minutes. Long enough that Dipper’s lungs burned. He pulled away and gasped for breath, dimly hearing Stan, the most concerned Dipper had ever heard him “Are you okay?” and Dipper nodded. He needed to breathe. He needed air. He needed…

The shorts were the first to go. Dipper wasn’t even totally conscious of opening them or pulling them down in a single motion with his briefs. He only realized what he’d done when he felt his erection spring free and he nearly cried with relief as he threw the offending articles of clothing off of the bed. Then he looks back at Stan, and the way Stan is looking at him does nothing to help his breathing. 

Stan is also breathing heavily, and looking at Dipper with a naked sort of want that he can hardly begin to process before Dipper finds himself pushed onto his back suddenly with a rough hand wrapped around his cock. Dipper arched his back with a sharp cry at the contact, sweet pressure along the shaft instead of suffocating fabric or empty air. Then the hand started moving and Dipper saw stars. Then there was a scratch of stubble, rough lips and wet tongue roaming his neck and Dipper was lost. 

No one had ever touched him like that. The only hand that had ever stroked him like this was his own and that not nearly so expertly. For example, that would be Stan’s thumb, brushing over the head of his cock, gathering pre-cum to lubricate his stroke. A new wave of terror crashed on Dipper as he realized he could cum from this in a matter of moments. God how humiliating would that be? Finally get into bed with a man, be treated like an adult, and just jizz at the first adult touch? The fear was quickly suffocated by the heat, spreading through him. He could drown in it. Dipper pushed Stan back, just an inch or so, and Stan’s hand stuttered on his cock. Once he saw Dipper was just sitting up to pull off his vest and tug his shirt over his head.

As soon as it’s gone, Stan’s mouth lowers. Wet kisses to his collarbone and down his chest, lips lingering on his skin only to shift mere inches and again and not a step missed with the steady rhythm over Dipper’s cock and then his tongue began teasing circles over and around his nipple and…

“G...Grunkle Stan, please…” 

Stan stopped. He pulled away, and Dipper whined at the loss of touch, of contact. Stan sat up and Dipper looked up at him. “This is wrong.” he said, with finality. “Get out of here, kid.” 

Dipper just stared at him. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. They weren’t sad tears, he wasn’t hurt. He was furious. 

“Oh, you’re KIDDING me!” 

Stan startled. He’d just been getting lost in his head when Dipper shouted. He wasn’t sure he believed in hell, hadn’t been raised to and those he’d met who did believe had typically been of suspect character in his book. If it existed though, Stan was positive he was going there. What he was doing, what he’d already done was unforgivable. At minimum, he’d have to send Dipper home. Mabel too. They’d already both gotten far enough under his skin he knew it would kill him to send them home when the summer ended, but for their sake he would have to do it early. Then what? Maybe Dipper would talk about what had happened, get into therapy, his parents would press charges… 

Then Dipper shouted and Stan’s thoughts stopped dead. He sure as hell didn’t sound like an abused kid. He sounded, and Stan blinked but the parallel was almost exact. Sure the voice was different but point for point his tone sounded exactly like Carla McCorckle when they were teenagers and Stan had cum too soon in the back seat of his car. He turned and looked at Dipper. 

Dipper had long assumed Grunkle Stan was a multi-layered person. He hadn’t known what was under the surface but he’d wanted to find out. He hadn’t expected this. Fear, self-loathing, and a kind of pain that made Dipper wonder how he functioned. He’d never seen Stan look this open, and for good reason it seemed. He was hiding a lot. For a moment, Dipper thought of leaving as requested. Stan would likely destroy himself with guilt if this went any further. Of course, nothing was stopping him from doing that over what had happened already. Dipper had to help him, somehow.

“When I heard you say my name,” he started slowly, and Stan’s expression developed a thin layer of interest. “I thought you heard me coming. I was gonna ask about getting up to make breakfast for Mabel. She’s had a rough couple days and I thought...well...but then I realized...how you said my name. And. Geez Gr-” oh. Dipper heard himself then, the word he’d been about to say. The word he’d said, and suddenly he knew why Stan had shied away like that. Well he wouldn’t make that mistake again. “J...just, Stan. I was so flattered. Sometimes I’m not sure you even like me at all much less like this and I…” he swallowed hard, trying to plan his next words. 

“If you’re doing this because you think it’s what I want, you shouldn’t?” Stan said. His voice was hollow. Empty in a way that scared Dipper. 

“Am I wrong?” Dipper asked, not denying that had been his reason. It was more than that but, that was part of it. 

“No.” Stan admitted, and Dipper reached for him. Stan pushed his hand away lightly and added “That’s not enough, though. You have to want it too.” 

Dipper stopped. And stared. And for a moment he needed to reevaluate everything he knew about Grunkle Stan. Because Stan was a lot of things. Selfish, greedy, a bit curmogeney, ultimately deeply loving...Dipper had never, not until this very moment, ever considered that Stupid was one of them. Sure, it was a valid sentiment, but for the life of him Dipper couldn’t process what about this scene made Stan think he didn’t want it. He was naked, his own doing, not Stan’s. He was hard as...well, okay, the subject had caused his erection to flag a little but that was hardly the point. So his voice was just a touch sarcastic when he said “I’m a teenage boy, I’ll take just about any kind of sex.” Stan winced, and Dipper did as well, acknowledging that maybe that hadn’t been the best phrasing. “Not that you’re at all a bad option.” he corrected. “I mean, I have kinda seen everything now.” Stan tensed and Dipper was reminded of something he hadn’t seen. Something Stan was vehement that he would never see. Standing fully clothed in a cold shower vehemit. “N...not everything.” he tried to reassure. It didn’t seem to help, Dipper couldn’t follow that rabbit hole though, he had more important things to express. “But. You’re really a good looking guy. In the way old people are good looking, anyway…” still not helping. Stan was still tense and not looking at him and okay. Dipper groaned. Bluntness it was then. “None of this is coming out right but, god, Stan...if you think I don’t want you right now you couldn’t be more wrong.” 

Stan leaned heavily against the wall, heart racing, heart breaking. Dipper was trying so hard to convince him this was okay. Trying to get him to forgive himself. He was a good kid, and Stan would do a lot of things to keep Dipper from ending up like him. From sharing even a fraction of his experience. Forcing yourself to get off for men three, four times your age? Giving them the best look of admiration you could muster so when they came on your face you could count on the stack of bills they handed over being that much higher. This wasn’t that. This was so far from that, he wasn’t fucking paying Dipper. He wasn’t fucking Dipper at all, not...not really. This had gone too far already, and whether it was for love or money Stan wasn’t going to let Dipper compromise himself like that. 

So maybe he could salvage this. Maybe he could be a decent authority figure after all. Dipper probably needed to talk about some things this had brought up for him, Stan would start. “Since when are you into guys anyway?” 

It was Dipper’s complete lack of hesitation when he answered “Since today.” that led to Stan choking and coughing. Dipper sat up to reach behind him and pat his back and Stan pulled in a long breath. Dipper didn’t mention it, just continued talking. “I mean, sure, everybody’s at least a little into, like Liam John from those new comic book movies. And I guess my type in women has always run a little to the masculine side, so it’s not like I’m surprised.” Okay, this was good. Stan could follow that line of thought. He remembered pretty clearly when he first noticed he was looking at actors in movies as much as actresses, they could talk about this. Of course, then Dipper had to totally derail Stan’s attempt to move past what had just happened by saying “but I think what makes me want this most is knowing that you want me.” 

He’d already gone and fucked the kid up, hadn’t he? This was bad. “You know me wanting you isn’t a good sign, right?” he asked, a little too forcefully. “You’re a kid. I’m a gross old man. There’s a word for people like that.” 

“I’m not a kid.” Dipper said reflexively. 

Stan snorted. “Yes you are, you’re twelve.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not a kid.” 

Part of Stan, some cruel voice deep in his mind suggested that if Dipper wanted to say he wasn’t a kid, Stan should show him exactly what not being a kid was like. The thought made him sick and so he snapped “What do you even want from me, Dipper? Do you even know what you’re asking? How do you think this is going to go if I just...if I take what you’re offering?”

Dipper swallowed, nervousness flitting across his expression. Good. Of course for a smart kid he was also extremely dumb because the next thing he said was “I’m pretty sure you know what you’re doing.” and then, with genuine enthusiasm “You can teach me!” 

Until ten seconds ago, Stan would have sworn that the only human being to ever exist who could make sex nerdy was currently in some other dimension. Hopefully having freaky, consensual sex with weird, hot-to-no-one-but-him aliens. Dipper, however, had just proved him wrong. Only nerds were so excited about learning that it translated to learning from a more experienced sex partner. Sure, more experienced sex partner was exciting, but for the experience not the education. However handy the education might come in later. The parallel though, for all that it hurt, also reminded him of something. Dipper was also a twin. 

Stan swallowed. It was low, but he had to try. If he could save Dipper from his own intentions, he had to try. “What would you have done if it’d been your sister’s name you heard me say?” and Dipper went still. Stan smirked, that was what he thought. “‘Cause that happens too. It’s not just you.” 

Dipper felt sick. Honestly, he thought he might throw up. He breathed slowly through the nausea and tried to grab at a thread of rationality. Stan’s words sat in his gut like poison and Dipper knew, he knew, if it had been Mabel’s name...he’d have run. He’d have packed their bags, grabbed his sister, run away and never looked back. He could already see the plan forming. He had their return tickets tucked away in his luggage. Dipper had a few dollars, they could take the first bus into a larger town with a proper bus station and exchange the tickets for the next ones home. If Stan had said Mabel’s name, Dipper would only have been able to see how he could have hurt her. 

Satisfied with his argument, Stan got out of bed. Maybe he should make that breakfast for Mabel after all. A goodbye breakfast. He couldn’t keep the kids after this. Stan was halfway to the door when Dipper spoke, voice incredulous. “Mabel’s into guys her own age. Who even knows what I’m into?” He sounded desperate, and Stan knew what bargaining to justify something yourself sounded like. 

“And how does that make me less of a creep?” he demanded. 

Dipper didn’t sit up all the way, just propped onto his elbow to look at him. “Because you’d never hurt us.” he answered, and the certainty in his voice nearly broke Stan. What the hell did Dipper call what he’d just done? “You’d never touch her if she didn’t want you to.” he said, and Stan’s stomach rolled at the thought. Dipper had a point there. “I mean, look at you. You’re beating yourself up for touching me and I want you to. So yeah. I’d have panicked if I’d heard you talking about her like that, but that’s because she’s my sister. It’s called being overprotective. Since it was me though, I was able to be a little more rational about it.” 

If Dipper reminded him any more of Ford, Stan was going to punch something. He took a deep breath, pushing back memories of late night conversations about guilt and overprotectiveness and inappropriate touching. “So do you only want me because I want you?” he demanded. “‘Cause that’s pretty…” he stumbled, seeking out a good phrasing before figuring what the hell. He’d said one bad word in front of the kid, and done significantly worse. Some stronger language wouldn’t kill him. “Pretty fucked up, Dipper. You should have better standards.” 

Dipper bristled. “Look, I’m being really understanding here, but you don’t have a lot of room to talk about being fucked up right now.” and if that wasn’t a literal shock to his system, hearing Dipper swear like that. More importantly though, Dipper was acknowledging that Stan wanting him was wrong. But then Dipper continued “So maybe I’m interested because it eases some of my insecurities. Maybe you’re interested because...I don’t know. I can’t even imagine what you see in me. But if we’re both coming from bad places doesn’t that kinda balance out?” 

“No.” Stan said softly, though it ached hearing Dipper acknowledge his insecurities. To deny how beautiful he was. “It makes it worse.” 

Dipper shrugged and collapsed onto his back. Stan knew he should turn and go. Let Dipper get dressed again, start on that breakfast. Something fancy. He had a cookbook around here somewhere… but then some movement caught his eye and he watched, transfixed, as Dipper dropped a hand between his legs and began palming at his still-present erection. Dipper was beautiful. Dipper was the most beautiful, amazing thing Stan had ever seen, inside and out, and he had no idea. He had to have some idea what touching himself like that, naked in Stan’s bed, would do to Stan. Had to have, because he stopped suddenly and looked up guiltily. Then he rolled onto his side and “I think it’s less that you want _me_ , and more that _you_ want me.” Dipper sat up. “Sometimes it feels like you don’t like me at all. I mean, as a person. It seems like you barely tolerate me.” If Dipper was going for making Stan feel better, he was missing by a mile. “It’s kinda a relief knowing you’re actually attracted to me though. It means I’m not…” Dipper hesitated, then, quieter “I’m not a disappointment.” 

It wasn’t that that was any less fucked up then the rest of it. It was just the last straw. Because no. No, Dipper did not get to feel like that. Dipper was good, he was so good and so smart and he’d do so well...he needed to be a little tougher sometimes but Stan hated that Dipper had ever thought he didn’t like him. Didn’t love him with more of himself then he knew he had left to give away. So Stan couldn’t help it. He told himself he shouldn’t and did it anyway. He crossed back over to the bed and barley took the time to sit down before kissing Dipper again. 

The kisses were shorter this time, more urgent. Brief and hard and between each of them Stan breathed a word or two. “I’m sorry.” and “You shouldn’t - “ and “you’re not, could never…” and most simply “You’re perfect.” and Dipper kissed back and wrapped his arms around Stan’s neck and Stan’s arms found their way to Dipper’s waist and they stayed like that, with Stan gasping every praise he could think of between hard kisses, eventually dropping to press those kisses, those words, into Dipper’s skin. “You’re beautiful.” “So smart.” “So good.” and he caught hold of Dipper’s body to lay him flat, to kiss every inch of him. His hands wandered for only a moment before settling one on Dipper’s far hip and the other on his nearer arm. Stan’s mouth traveled Dipper’s chest and abdomen and Dipper was all soft moans and he reached out and his hands got in Stan’s hair. Stan waited for Dipper to pull, he never did. It was the best kind of tension, waiting for the flash of the good kind of pain as he traced no pattern across Dipper’s skin. Up and down from nipples to navel and back again with out of order stops everywhere in between and all the way up to his collarbone. He teased skin with lips and tongue and drew the most beautiful sounds from the boy. 

Stan wanted him. All of him. And more then that, he wanted Dipper to know that.

Finally, after much too long and not enough time, Stan crawled down between Dipper’s legs and got his mouth around the boy’s cock. He had hardly more then the head in his mouth when Dipper did pull his hair a little and breathed “Stan…” and god, he was perfect. 

Just in case, Stan settled his hands on each of Dipper’s hips and took in more and more of him. There wasn’t that much, Dipper’s cock had only been an inch or so longer than Stan’s hand was wide, and in girth...well. If it belonged to anyone he loved less, Stan wouldn’t have been impressed. He tried not to think of how that was because Dipper was still growing. Instead, he focused on creating suction and friction and a set pattern to bob his head to and Dipper moaned and gripped Stan’s hair tighter without pulling again. They’d have to talk about exactly what Stan liked sometime if they were gonna do this again. 

Dipper only lost control a couple of times, bucking against the secure hold Stan kept on his hips. He settled quickly after, panting for breath. It was after doing this a third time that Stan heard him whine “Stan, - Stan please, Stan, Stop.” 

Stan recoiled. Pulling off of Dipper and throwing himself to the foot of the bed. Fuck. He’d fucked up. He’d done something wrong, he shouldn’t have held Dipper down like that. Dipper had realized how fucked up this was and was going to leave, was going to hate him and - 

“Need -” Dipper gasped, cutting off the flow of Stan’s thoughts. “We need to take care of you too.” 

And Stan’s entire brain short-circuited.

Dipper fought to pull his thoughts together. Good didn’t cover what that had been. Great just sounded lame. Amazing was getting closer but really Dipper was pretty sure they’d need to invent a new word to describe exactly what getting a blowjob from Stan Pines felt like. The best word for the moment, was close. Too close. That was a good place to start. Or maybe, he realized as he took in Stan’s shocked, panic-stricken expression, he should start with an apology. 

“Sorry. That was just. Really close.” he took a deep, steadying breath and propped up on his elbows. “Just, with how good that was I know if you’d...if I’d...uh. Wow, way to be an adult about this Dipper, let’s try again. If you got me off like that I’d be useless for like, an hour, and that’s not fair to you.” 

Stan just stared blankly at him. He knew he should respond, Dipper would start to get worried if he didn’t respond. He just. His great nephew. Dipper Pines. Had literally just stopped someone, mid-blowjob, because he was worried about their pleasure. Stan searched his mind blindly for a response to that, any response. He ended up spitting out the first coherent thought he could grab. That coherent thought, however, just happened to be “I love you.” 

Dipper was only shocked for a second. Then he grinned, because he got it. Stopping Stan had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but he’d done it. Caring that much about a partner’s pleasure, and taking action based on it, took a lot of self-discipline. What Stan was saying is that he was proud of him. Which felt amazing. The word had just come out bigger because there was enough arousal going around for jelly-brain to be a thing. Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe Stan meant it, because he was looking at Dipper...no one had ever looked at Dipper like that before. Like he was the most precious thing in the world. Dipper’s breath caught, and he reflected that maybe Stan actually meant it. “I love you too.” he breathed, and Stan...well...someone needed to stop Stan from thinking so highly of Dipper before he got carried away. Dipper guessed the task fell to him. So he smirked and said the first, most obscene thing to come to mind. “...but if I’m losing my virginity today, I’d kinda like to do it right.” 

“Uh,” Stan said dumbly. “You uh, you sure you’re ready for that?” 

Dipper glanced at Stan’s crotch, erection still visible though his boxers. He remembered his earlier fear, and how readily he’d dismissed it with the conviction that Stan would never hurt him. How Stan had done nothing but reinforced that conviction. So he let his smirk linger and said “I don’t like putting things off because they’re intimidating.” and god, Stan just looked adorable like that. Just. Wide-eyed with shock and sparkling with hope. Dipper wanted him to look like that all the time. So he followed through “and that,” it occurred to him too late that he couldn’t exactly gesture given that his arms were currently supporting a good chunk of his weight. So he settled for leaving his gaze on Stan’s erection as he paused pointedly before adding “is intimidating for all -” his voice cracked. His voice. Cracked. Dipper pushed past it and hoped with everything in him Stan hadn’t noticed “...the best reasons.” 

Stan’s smile was the best thing Dipper had ever seen. He shifted to lay by Dipper’s side and suddenly they were kissing again and Dipper moaned softly into the kiss because this was all so good. Then Stan pulled back a little and breathed “We don’t have to, you know.” and Dipper looked at him questioningly. “I’d be okay if we didn’t get to me. I can take care of myself.” 

“Yeah, but...I want you.” 

Stan’s stomach flipped. Dipper knew. He may not understand, but he knew exactly what he was asking for. Stan wanted to be sure though, he wanted to ask again. That would just piss Dipper off though, and for once Stan doesn’t want that. So he kissed him instead. Then he sat up and went for the nightstand. Lube was in the top drawer. 

Honestly, Stan would love to kill another fifteen minutes kissing all over Dipper’s body again. The problem was him. His knees and back wouldn’t take it if he tried. So instead, he just got right back where he had been, between Dippers legs. This time he caught hold of each thigh and pushed one to the side while lifting the other. Dipper cooperated easily as Stan put the boy’s leg over his shoulder. He used his hands to delicately part Dipper’s cheeks and get a good look at his hole. A little wave of excitement flooded through him. Rimming was one of Stan’s favorite sex act, and his top favorite that involved anal play of any kind. Giving or receiving, and he hadn’t gotten to do either very often. Carefully, experimentally, he drew his tongue over Dipper’s fluttering hole. Dipper sucked in a breath and Stan took that as permission. He traced the shape of the opening, teasing the puckered flesh with his tongue and letting his lips rest against skin as he made the first intrusion. Tongue slipping inside of Dipper and back out and teasing and testing and Dipper was gripping the sheets so Stan could only assume it was good. He could hear Dipper taking long, slow breaths. Steadying himself, Stan guessed. Then when he finally got a distinctively pleasured little whine, he stopped. 

The next whine was distinctly not pleasured. In fact, Stan was pretty sure it directly translated to ‘what the hell why did you stop?’ and he chuckled. It was good to pass along an enjoyment of fine things. It was time to move along though, and Stan coated his fingers in lube and bit down on his own nervousness about this. On the urge to double-check again. Instead, he just proceeded, carefully pressing his index finger inside of Dipper. The sound Dipper made was easily the best yet, low and full and it went straight to Stan’s cock. He had never wanted what this was building to more and it was taking a good deal of self-control to keep the foreplay this slow. 

Really, it was surprising how easy the finger went in. How smoothly his first few, timid thrusts with it slid in and out and Stan felt a little burst of affection all over again for how relaxed Dipper must be. How much he trusted him. It was almost too much, so Stan pushed it down to focus on the task at hand. Namely, adding a second finger. That got a little hiss of pain so Stan took it slow. Careful, a gentle push, filling him more and more and then retract and god Dipper is doing so well. Stan repeated the motion a few times, then, testing, shifted his hand and crooking his fingers just so slightly.

Dipper screamed in pleasure and it was Stan’s turn to smirk. He did it again. Dipper cried out again and then gasped “Stan, oh...please, Stan...please…” so Stan did it a third time and Dipper managed to cry out and moan and shout “oh FUCK please!” all at once. So Stan did it again, a little pull back, a little thrust in, a little crook and just a little pressure in just the right place and Dipper was coming apart at the seams. He did it again, and used the wave of pleasure to disguise pushing a third finger in. Dipper didn’t react. Stan thrust a few more times with the three fingers, giving Dipper’s prostate a moment to rest from being directly prodded, instead just letting his knuckle scrape against it. Dipper sputtered a little, and shook, and Stan grinned as he flexed his fingers and heard Dipper’s breath hitch. He flexed them again, stretching Dipper slowly, then backtracked and scraped the prostate entirely deliberately. 

Stan worked like that another few moments. Once he was convinced Dipper was open enough, he pulled his fingers out. The little whine from Dipper then, just a quiet little “no…” made Stan hesitate just a moment, before remembering what it was like to go from the good kind of something inside you to nothing. 

He rubbed Dipper’s thigh as he shifted, keeping the one leg up over his shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, Dipper. I’m right here.” 

At first he kept one hand on Dipper’s opposite thigh, to keep the boy from reflexively closing his legs. A moment later he needed that hand to carefully guide himself into Dipper’s hole. The sound Dipper made wasn’t quite a whine, but it was higher pitched then what he’d been doing from the fingers so Stan took a moment to check in. “Tell me if it’s too much.” A simple instruction, more a permission then anything. That shouldn’t rile Dipper, shouldn’t bring up any of the hundreds of problems with what they were doing here.

To Stan’s surprise, Dipper snorted, and mumbled something less then fully coherent. “-’f I known gonna...take it that way...ego...I wouldn’ta said anything.” Stan stopped, taking a moment to parse that out. It might just be incoherent mumblings, but it also might be important. Ego...said… and then Stan got it, and he laughed. The head of his cock was only just past the rim of Dipper’s hole and there was a pleasant pressure around the head and under the bell from the way it closed around him. Stan stopped completely, only just slightly inside Dipper, and laughed. Dipper turned a wide grin on him and Stan returned it. He’d almost forgotten Dipper’s earlier flirtatious comments about the size of his cock. He’d known at the time it was empty flattery but Dipper using it now to make a dig at him was hilarious. 

They say if you can’t laugh in bed with someone, you probably shouldn’t be having sex with them. Moment of laughter out of the way, Stan returned his hand to Dipper’s thigh and began pushing the rest of the way in. It was only once he was flush against Dipper, pelvic bone pushing against his ass, that Stan remembered he didn’t have a condom. That was, he realized, probably something he should have thought of before penetration. It was a hell of an effect, Dipper’s tight, hot passage squeezing around him mixed with the cold terror of everything he’d learned about disease since the last time he’d seen this kind of action. Stan took a moment to breathe, and realized he was squeezing Dipper’s thigh maybe a little too tight. The pressure was almost too much, and it was the reminder he needed that, until this very moment, Dipper was a virgin. Which led him to his own history. A very long time ago there’d been a lot of risky behavior, before he’d understood the risk. But he’d been tested. He’d seen on the news how bad it was and he got tested. He’d had some minor, bacterial thing, went on a course of meds and he was fine. He hadn’t had...anything, much less anything risky, since. He was fine. They were fine. 

“Are you okay?” and Dipper was looking at him, eyes unfocused and Stan realized he had stopped completely. That he hadn’t let up on his hold on Dipper’s leg. That the pressure and the heat and DIPPER was almost too much for him even before the fear that, slowly, as he breathed again, began to pass. 

Stan laughed again and loosened his grip on Dippers thigh, rubbing it a little and hoping it wouldn’t bruise. “You’re so tight…” he breathed. 

“That’s a good thing, right?” Dipper was right on the line between flirty and genuinely concerned and it made Stan laugh again. 

“Yeah, real good.” he said. Then, taking another breath, he admitted “Might be too much for me.” but he twisted his tone at the last second, turned it into a joke. Because it was, mostly. He could absolutely do this ~~for~~ with, Dipper. 

Dipper laughed as well and Stan felt it. The vibration went through the boy’s whole body and Stan gasped. Dipper reached for him, but Stan, largely upright, was just beyond his grasp. He took another breath, and felt Dipper breathe with him. Then, for a moment, they just breathed like that. Together. Stan inside Dipper. Together. It felt like forever, and honestly, Stan would be willing to let a moment like this last forever if he could. He couldn’t though, it was time to keep going. 

So he moved, just a little. Sliding back a few inches and Dipper’s eyes squeeze shut and Stan hesitates. Then, he thrusts back in. Suddenly, and earning a sharp intake of breath from Dipper. He wants to reassure the boy, but knows his reassurances will be taken as jokes. So he pulls back again and repeats the motion, two, three times and Dipper slowly relaxes again and the grip on Stan feels a little more comfortable and he shifts, ever so slightly. Stan’s no expert at this end of things but he thinks...and thrust and…

Dipper cried out. There. Stan grinned. Perfect. Honestly Dipper is tight enough that he doesn’t know how long he can last, so best make this count. So he repeated the motion and again, and again in quick succession. Maybe too quick because Dipper’s cry was broken and Stan was dizzy from the friction. So he mustered all the will he could, and slowed down. Gentle, easy thrusts, more pushing then anything. The little sounds that escape Dipper go lower, and soon, they’re both breathing in time to the motion. In with an exhale, out with an inhale. A range of mere inches creates sensation that Stan knows is too good to last. Each exhale, the peek of each thrust, is punctuated by a little noise on the cusp between cry and moan and for the moment, Stan couldn’t be more pleased. 

“You’re doing so great, Dipper.” Stan breathed. “Taking it so well...fuck...you’re so good. So beautiful, so tight and...ugh I could do this forever. Just this, just giving you my cock like this, as long as you can take it. You feel so good, Dipper, you really have no idea. My beautiful boy…” Stan didn’t know what else he said. He wasn’t even conscious of all that. It was just talk. Sweeter than the usual fare of dirty talk. No name calling, he wouldn’t, not at a time like this. ...not without knowing if Dipper was into it, at any rate. 

Soon, Dipper was trembling. Stan could feel the muscle of Dipper’s thigh practically twitching under his hand. The tremors went all over Dipper’s body too, Stan could even feel them around his cock. “Yes…” Dipper eventually breaths under Stan’s continuous stream of praise. “Yes...please, Stan…” 

So Stan picked up the pace a little. He started thrusting faster, maybe harder, and Dipper gasped and moaned aloud and Stan couldn’t help but “that’s it, that’s it, you like this, I knew you would..” and then, perhaps not entirely without warning but quickly enough to surprise Stan, Dipper is cumming.

For his age, it’s a fairly impressive spurt. Perhaps Stan only wasn’t expecting it because he hadn’t been touching Dipper. It was rare, exceedingly rare, for Stan to get off from anal stimulation alone, but he’d done so for Dipper. It would be enough to make him preen a little if he weren’t actively dealing with the sudden constriction of Dipper’s muscles, making his passageway all the tighter and a few thrusts and Stan joined him. 

He’d intended to pull out, but his own orgasm catches him as much by surprise as Dipper’s had, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed. Intensity over pleasure and white-hot tension bursts through him and he spills inside Dipper with a shout of his own before Dipper is even through with his own climax. Then, they come down together, and it’s another perfect moment in such close succession that Stan can hardly believe this is real. Once they were both steady again, Stan pulled out and rolled to the side. Collapsing beside Dipper and throwing an arm across his middle. 

Dipper rolled to his side and kissed Stan. Stan kissed back, curling his arm up to rest against Dipper’s back. Then the kiss broke and Dipper nuzzled in against his shoulder and Stan held him. Dippers arm had, at some point during the kiss, snaked around Stan’s waist in return. So they just laid there in silence, holding each other until the sun came up.


	2. Mabel and Dipper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabel can tell something weird is going on with her brother and her Grunkle. The only thing weirder than what she finds out is how she feels about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suppose to be an introduction to Chapter 2. It's been...four months since I posted this story and I apologize for the lack of smut in this one, but once I hit 4k I realized it, and the stanbel scene to follow, deserved their own chapters. I don't know when the stanbel scene will come. Hopefully it won't be another four months and if it is...I am truly sorry.

Gravity Falls was full to the brim with all sorts of fun adventures. Sometimes, Mabel liked the mundane ones best though. Like the moments of mystery between getting dressed in the morning and walking into the kitchen. Would there be breakfast or would she have to make it herself? Was Stan awake or did she have the chance to surprise him? There was never any telling. Stan didn’t seem to have any kind of set sleep schedule that Mabel could discern. Sometimes she worried that he stayed up all night a lot, because sometimes he’d drink the last of that day’s pot of coffee sometime after dinner and be wide awake at breakfast time. Still, she knew he slept sometimes. Some days he came rushing out of his bedroom, fixing his tie, five minutes before the Mystery Shack was due to open. 

So perhaps her favorite mystery of Gravity Falls was, in fact, actually Grunkle Stan all along. 

It was with this happy conclusion that Mabel entered the kitchen, delighted to find breakfast a work in progress, and a collaborative work as well. “‘S a waste of good milk, kid.” 

“Milk fluffs up the eggs.” Dipper was explaining. “Makes them more filling, so they last longer?” 

“Fills ‘em with air.” Stan argued. “Doesn’t do a thing. Why are we even having eggs anyway? I was gonna make pancakes.” 

“Because if we don’t start having some protein with our breakfasts, we’re all going to die.” 

“Good morning, you wonderful, fantastic family people of mine!” Mabel called. The other two turned and looked at her from over by the stove. 

“Morning, Mabel.” 

“Hi, Mabel.” 

“WHY are we having eggs with our pancakes?” Mabel asked, a touch incredulously. 

“See?!” Stan declared. “It’s weird! Mabel agrees!”

“I mean, it’s weird if you don’t have bacon…” Mabel put in, cleverly, albeit transparently, encouraging them to add to the meal selection. 

They both paused, then a grin spread across Dipper’s face. “Hey, St- Grunkle Stan...you ever scramble eggs in bacon grease?” 

Stan grinned back. “Kid, I never scramble eggs _without_ bacon grease.” 

Less than half an hour later they’d all eaten their fill of pancakes drenched in syrup and powdered sugar and sprinkles. And on the savory side, they each only had two strips of bacon, but the eggs were fluffy and greasy and delicious and Mabel was happy. Or at least, as happy as she could be when there was very clearly a problem and no one saw fit to tell her. 

Grunkle Stan and Dipper were being...weird. Extra careful not to touch each other. Which, it wasn’t like they normally had arms slung around each other cuddling all day, much as Mabel might like to see that, but it was super obvious when two people are cooking together if they’re afraid to so much as brush arms. They were afraid to brush arms. What’s more, Dipper was being weirdly careful how he moved just, at all. In fact, he seemed to have a very slight limp, and was resting his weight mostly on his left hip as he sat at the table. 

Mabel finished her large glass of Mabel Juice, which she’d made while the boys cooked, and glanced between them before asking “Hey, Dip-dop, what’s wrong with your leg?” 

Dipper froze for a beat and sat up square. Hard, apparently, because he winced. Then Stan winced. Dipper huffed out a little, pained breath and said “Must’ve pulled something coming downstairs. No big deal.” 

Okay, that was plausible. It didn’t tell her why Grunkle Stan was being so weird though. Then again, maybe she was imagining it. 

Except she wasn’t, or at least she wasn’t imagining that something was going on. Any fear that it was something bad vanished when Dipper, limping slightly behind her as they walked into the woods, everything still dewey-fresh well before the heat of the day could set in, started humming. Mabel went quiet and listened, trying to recognize the song. So of course Dipper stopped and asked “You okay, Mabel?” 

“Yeah! Just…” she paused a beat and turned to face him, leaning in uncomfortably close to his face. Dipper startled and leaned away. “You haven’t seen Wendy this morning or anything, have you?” 

“No? Why?” 

His answer was so fast and natural she knew it was true. So she hadn't quite caught the secret. “You're just actin kinda funky.” She explained. 

“Am not.” 

Mabel turned on her heel to face him, hands on her hip, and fixed him with a look. “You're humming.” She informed him. He looked genuinely surprised by this revelation, and what's more, vaguely horrified. “So spill. If it's not romance than what?” 

Dipper still looked horrified, and Mabel was beginning to get worried again. Whatever it was may not be bad, but it was something he was trying to keep even from her. His continued silence didn't help. Neither did his eventual slow response of “Okay, but you have to _promise_ you won't freak out.” 

“Why would I…” 

“ _**Promise**_ me, Mabel.” Dipper interrupted. 

“I pro-” 

“Hands.” 

Mabel blinked. Dipper hand his hands out, palms up. She blinked again, staring at them for a moment, and he wiggled his fingers invitingly. Oh. “Dipper!” She scolded, placing her hands in his. “Don’t you trust me?” 

“Not about this.” Dipper answered. “I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I know if the shoe were on the other foot I’d absolutely lose my mind when you told me. So I need you to give me your word. You won’t freak out. And above all, you _won’t. Tell. anybody.”_

He was serious. He was deathly serious, and Mabel felt a chill crawl up her spine as she squeezed his hands, fingers all carefully laid side-by-side, no possibility of crossing them, no hint of dishonesty. She even looked him right in the eye and took in the abundance of real joy there, behind a brick wall of caution. She just looked at him a moment and then breathed “I promise. I won’t freak out, and I won’t tell anyone.” 

“Okay.” Dipper dropped her hands and took a deep breath. Her arms felt strange suddenly, dangling, anticipation flooding her entire body as he seemed to try and work out how to say what he was going to say. She thought she was ready, and was about to lose patience with him. “Stan and I had sex.” 

She hadn’t been ready. 

“Wha?” 

It was the only sound that could make it out of her mouth as her entire brain was plunged into an icy fog. He’d just told her what was up. Told her why he was acting strange. For that matter, why Stan had been acting strange. The details added up. The careful not touching, the sitting weird, the wincing - all details that slid effortlessly into place to create an image that Mabel did not want to see, did not want to understand. She focused instead on the humming, the easy bickering, so much more natural than Dipper and Stan usually were.  
It all made sense, and Mabel couldn’t understand a fragment of it. “You what?” 

“We…” Dipper made a sound that was part sigh and part growl. “Stan and I...we...I don’t know how to phrase it, we...went all the way, I guess.” 

“When did you even go part of the way?” Mabel demanded, surprised by the harshness in her voice. She didn’t know where it had come from, didn’t know what Dipper was saying. 

“Also last night.” Dipper answered. He paused, then “Well, technically this morning, but well before sunrise so…” he shrugged. 

Mabel stepped back, then stepped back again and Dipper’s face fell. He looked devastated, opened his mouth to say something else and then closed it again. Mabel felt her back connect with a nearby tree and slid down it. “I did not see that coming.” she said finally. “I still don’t. I can’t even -” she shuddered and curled her hands into firsts, scrubbing at her eyelids with them, pressing against her eyeballs and trying desperately to reconcile everything she knew about the world with what she had just been told. 

“You promised not to freak out.” Dipper reminded her. Mabel gave some serious thought to screaming, it might help. “He didn’t hurt me.” Dipper said after a moment. “I wanted it - wanted him.” 

“But he’s Grunkle Stan!” Mabel shouted. If she couldn’t quite bring herself to scream, she could definitely shout. 

“I know!” Dipper wasn’t quite shouting back, but his voice was raised and high in the way it got when he was panicking. “I know it’s weird, Mabel, but I need to you to stay calm about this. I need you to Not. Let. Anyone. _Know._ Ever.” Mabel’s breathing was a little ragged as she couldn’t quite control it at the moment, but Dipper seemed to totally deflate. “...He could get in a lot of trouble if you tell anyone, Mabel, and I don’t want that. I can’t even tell you how much I don’t want that. Please.” 

Was Dipper...begging? What was he even begging for? 

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” she promised, feeling herself calming down even as the words came out of her mouth. Her heart was racing and her head still felt like it’d been jammed full of cotton in an instant. “I just...I don’t understand, Dipper…”

“We talked a lot.” Dipper said slowly. “I- well, I found out that he...liked me and...I just...couldn’t resist. He didn’t force anything, or manipulate me, if anything I may have manipulated him a little and oh -” Dipper cut off abruptly and leaned against his own tree. “He’s just...so good, Mabel. So...I don’t know.” 

It was, when Dipper put it that way, kind-of romantic. Mabel could half see that around the shock. Grunkle Stan was old, and lonely, and she and Dipper had come into his life and made it better. A late night talk culminating in passionate lovemaking with - well, there were a few hangups to get past before she could take that at face value. The biggest one was, of course, “So Grunkle Stan’s gay?” 

Dipper hesitated. “I mean...we didn’t exactly discuss labels like that but...I think he might be bi, actually?” 

Mabel hadn’t expected to feel like her whole world shattered when Dipper said that. 

She could see it though. Stan was comfortable with her. She was warm and friendly and had done her best to brighten up his life and explore what he did and who he was as a person. She’d done her best to be family. Dipper had been...not cold, but he certainly had taken longer to warm up to Stan than she had. Stan hadn’t exactly sought out Dipper’s company or affection, not in a traditional way. He’d bossed Dipper around though, teased him relentlessly, acted, Mabel realized now, like a boy with a crush. He’d had a crush on Dipper the whole time and he just saw Mabel as family and why did that hurt so much? 

It wasn’t like Stan was particularly attractive even. Although, he cut a pretty impressive figure in that suit. The whole Mr. Mystery vibe was actually kinda right on the edge of hot old man. Except he was also gross, with stained tank tops and too much chest hair and a saggy gut. It wasn’t like she wanted him like that, did she? 

“Oh boy.” Mabel finally breathed. She had a lot going on all of the sudden. For half a second, she entertained the hope that Dipper was pulling a fast one on her. There were two problems with that. The first was that all the clues lined up with it and neither Dipper or Stan were that subtle of actors. The second was that Dipper never would, not something like this. 

After a moment Dipper commented “You know, I’m not sure how I feel about you being more surprised that Stan likes men then that I do…” 

Mabel snorted. “Please. The way you drool over Liam John? I’ve known that since we were six.” Dipper looked genuinely thunderstruck by the revelation and Mabel couldn’t help but laugh a little bit. “You’re not subtle, Dipdop. That’s how I know you’re telling the truth, even.” 

“Mabel, **I** didn’t even know!” now Dipper was shouting, and Mabel broke into peels of laughter. She had to, she was feeling too much and in a choice between laughing and crying, Mabel would always choose laughter. It took a little bit for Dipper to join her, and soon they were both laughing, sitting a couple of yards apart on the forest floor, leaning against different trees and doubling over with laughter. About a minute into that, Dipper shrieked “I don’t even know why I’m laughing!” which, if it were even possible, made Mabel laugh harder.   
It came to an end though, eventually they’d laughed themselves out. Mabel was lying on her side now, looking up at Dipper who was still sitting, head resting on his knees as the last few chuckles tore their way from his throat. Between them, he eventually asked “So...so you’re okay with this?” 

“I mean…” Mabel pushed herself to sit up. Just that beginning seemed to have startled Dipper, who was looking at her with an expression like nothing so much as a deer that had just heard an unfamiliar noise. “You know I wanted the grand summer romance for myself. And just when it starts looking like that’s not gonna happen…” 

The fear melted into confusion. “What?” 

Mabel shrugged. “I mean. Grunkle Stan maybe wouldn’t be my _first_ choice if I was picking out a boyfriend for you but he’s not bad. He’s…” she sucked in a breath trying to figure out how to explain to her brother, who still looked completely lost. “Like...if he was our age, like a cousin instead of a grunkle, then I’d be _really_ jealous. But instead I think I’m only a little jealous?” 

“He’d still be related to us, dumb-dumb.” Dipper put in, a little too quickly for Mabel’s taste.

Mabel frowned at him. “Are YOU okay with what happened, Dipper?” 

“Yes!” Still too fast, Mabel’s frown deepened. “I told you, he’d never hurt me. He was...I definitely...pursued it.” 

“Well, sometimes I pursue a sixth scoop of ice cream after dinner, that doesn’t mean I never regret it in the morning.” Mabel argued. 

Dipper made a noise in the back of his throat that Mabel took as a disagreement of some sort. “It’s not like that, Mabel. I don’t -” he paused, fumbling for words. “It’s like like extra dessert and more like...jaywalking. Or - or spending money mom told you to save.”

Mabel grinned. “You feel like a _**bad** _ boy, don’tcha?” 

Dipper’s little hum of frustration amused her a little and a stray, leftover giggle made its way out. “It’s more like...I did something that, on paper is wrong, but that felt like the right thing to do at the time and...kinda still does?” 

Mabel considered a moment, then “Like you broke a bad rule?” 

“Kinda?” Dipper agreed. “Or...more like...a rule that just doesn’t apply in my situation. Like...Jaywalking. Don’t Jaywalk is usually a really good rule, but on a residential street when you’re going to a DDNMD game like, right across from your house and the nearest crosswalk is a couple hundred yards away...suddenly Jaywalking seems like the right thing to do? Or at least acceptable, especially if you’re running late. You know?” 

“You are _Way_ over thinking this, bro-bro.” Mabel countered. “If you don’t feel bad about it then don’t feel bad about it.” She paused, and her voice got a little quieter when she said “besides, if he’s like...in love with you then he’ll probably be heartbroken if you back out on it now.” 

Dipper startled again, and so did Mabel, because she hadn’t said anything, had she? There was no way he could know the way the whole concept was tearing at her, was there? So it was almost a relief when he started talking nonsense again. “I mean...I know he loves me. And I know he’s...physically attracted to me. But in love?” 

“Overthinking again.” She launched herself up from where she was sitting and crouched less than a foot from Dipper’s face, then reached up and knocked on his head. “Knock-knock! Keep it down in there! Party’s over, you’re disturbing the peace by _questioning your epic romance!_ ” 

Dipper allowed a tiny half-chuckle, then nodded. “Yeah, okay.” He paused and looked at her “And...you’re really okay with all of this? The age, the...the incest, everything?” 

“Yep. All of that.” Mabel answered, again, too quickly. 

“Then what’s bothering you?” 

Mabel retreated back to her tree and curled down on herself. “Nothing.” she knew she’d have to tell him now, but maybe if she made it hard for him he’d lose interest and give up. 

“Mabel…” he pressed, getting to his feet to loom menacingly over her. “What’s wrong?” 

“Okay, so - not to be like, not to be...a total buzzkill...and I mean you’re really great, Dipper. You’re the best brother and you’re probably gonna be a really good boyfriend but...why you?” Dipper looked confused, and perhaps a bit afraid. “I mean, if he was gay, I’d understand but you said you think he’s bi and still for some reason he chose _You_...” 

Realization snapped across Dipper’s features. “Pure dumb luck, Mabel. He - “ he hesitated suddenly “Oh man...I don’t think I should tell you this but...he said he likes you too.” 

The fog that her brain screeched into was warm this time. Pleasant, but no less befuddling. She passed through it, setting her own thoughts and feelings aside until they cleared up on their own, and focused instead on Dipper. She snorted. “Wow, Grunkle Stan needs to work on his moves. Telling a guy you’re getting together with that you like his sister is not a good one.” 

Dipper snorted. “I think he was trying to scare me off at the time, actually.” 

“Oh.” Mabel crashed back to disappointment. “I - but how do you know it’s true?” Dipper faltered, and Mabel pressed “If he was just trying to scare you away, maybe he made it up?” 

Eventually, Dipper shrugged. “I suppose you’ll just have to talk to him about it?” Mabel could feel herself go pale. Then “I mean, if it’s important to you to know... “ 

“He’s your boyfriend now though!” Mabel protested “I can’t just go up to your boyfriend and ask if he thinks I’m cute! Or hot or whatever. Or if he like-likes me or...any of that!” 

Dipper sat again, this time beside her. “Well, he’s not actually my boyfriend. We didn’t really...make arrangements.” 

Mabel met his eyes and asked “And you promise you wouldn’t be jealous?” 

Dipper took a moment to consider, then snorted. “Honestly this whole situation is weird enough already that I think I probably wouldn’t? Just…” he hesitated, then “Don’t, you know, make a move or something just because you’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous!” Mabel fired back instantly. 

“Whatever you say, Mabel.” Dipper got to his feet. “Now, I think we should get going. Plaidypus’ are pretty early risers and I want to get a look at them early in the day. The author had a theory that they only had one set of stripes as babies and grow into their plaid designs.” 

Mabel also stood, snorting. “Would they even be called Plaidypus’ yet if they aren’t even plaid?” 

She and Dipper debated the subject for a while, until they found to Plaidypus nest. They gushed at the cute little babies, who were, in fact, already plaid, but their vertical stripes were significantly fainter than their horizontal ones. Then the mother noticed them and made the most horrific squawking sound and came at them. Dipper and Mabel ran, and didn’t stop for what felt like a small eternity. 

They filled the rest of the day with little adventures like that, heading into town to split a plate of fries at Greasys for lunch. Over lunch, Dipper kept looking around nervously, and Mabel eyed him suspiciously. “What’s got you actin all paranoid?” she asked, their mornings fun having pushed the earlier revelation...not out of her mind, but certainly to the back of it. 

“Do you think people can tell?” Dipper asked, voice hushed. Mabel looked at him blankly. “You know. That something’s...different? I feel like people are looking at me.” 

Mabel snorted. “Uh, ‘cause you’re looking at them, .” she answered, then shrugged with a tiny giggle “Or, you know, they’re drawn to the glow of a New Love…” 

“Shhh!” Dipper hissed, bringing a finger to his lips. “Mabel!” 

“What?!” Mabel protested, a little louder. She dropped back to a normal speaking voice and added “I didn’t say with who! And even if I did I was talking normal. No one could hear me.” She pulled a surprisingly long fry from the plate as she spoke and held it up with an excited “ooohhh!” before beginning to munch on it. 

“Normal’s too loud!” he protested before eating a fry of his own, and pulled another one before adding “You should whisper.” and taking a bite.

“Pssh.” Mabel waved a fry at him. “Whispering draws way more attention then talking normal! ‘Cause then everybody knows you’ve got a secret!” Dipper grumbled and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and they spent the rest of their meal in silence. 

Uncomfortable as he seemed, Dipper didn’t want to disappear back into the forest like Mabel had assumed he would. Instead they spent a couple hours at the Library. Dipper pulled enough volumes that it looked like he’d be researching...something...for a while, so Mabel grabbed a stack of magazines and said “Get me if you find something cool.” and plopped down on a bean bag in the too-small ‘youth’ section. 

Dipper hadn’t found anything cool when he came to get her, he’d just decided it was time to leave. They headed back toward the shack and, as they approached, Mabel had to ask. “So, you really won’t mind?” 

“Hmm?” Dipper glanced at her. “Won’t mind what?” 

“You know.” Mabel prodded. 

Dipper hesitated. “Mabel...you...do you…” he paused and sighed. “I know you love him, but you...I mean. You actually said he wouldn’t be your first choice for a boyfriend. Why do you want to...Why does it matter so much if he likes you too?” 

The fog came back. Really, it had never left. Mabel had just wandered out of that part of her brain and now Dipper had dropped her right back into it. She followed him, and they broke the treeline before she could answer. Why did it matter so much? The image of Stan...touching Dipper, cut like ice. She knew jealousy when she felt it, and that was jealousy. It felt worse then the usual kind too, because she was jealous of her own twin. The question of why was a little harder to parse out. 

“There you are.” 

It got a whole lot easier when she saw him. Stan was still dressed in his Mr. Mystery suit and the way her heart flipped at the sight of him was entirely familiar and totally unexpected. She knew, didn’t she, that the dramatic taper from broad shoulders and chest down to a narrow waist was fake, achieved by a girdle. In fact, striking as the shape of him was, she was almost disappointed how well the suit covered his soft belly, how it made his scrawny little legs look reasonably filled out. He was smiling, but not as wide as usual. “Hi, Grunkle Stan!” she greeted. 

“Hi, Grunkle Stan.” Dipper echoed. 

“You kids have fun?” he asked, then without waiting for an answer “Got some TV Dinners in the oven, timer’s going. First one to the oven when it goes off gets first pick, no arguing.” 

He sounded exactly the same, and it was almost enough to snap Mabel out of...whatever crush-like trance she’d begun to fall into. He didn’t sound like Dipper’s boyfriend. He didn’t sound like someone who might secretly like her, who’d been pining away for the two of them all summer. He just sounded, and suddenly also just looked, like plain old Grunkle Stan. 

“What kind of TV Dinners did you put in?” Dipper asked, climbing the steps. Mabel could still see the change in his behavior. The awkward way he stopped just shy of touching Stan, standing one, maybe two feet away from him and looking up.

Something in Stan shifted, but Mabel couldn’t tell what. He turned to face Dipper as she climbed the steps behind him and answered “Salisbury Steak, Turkey Meal, and Chicken Fingers.” 

Mabel gasped, and Dipper looked at her over his shoulder, then “Does the Chicken Fingers one have a - “ 

“What do you think? Of course it’s got a brownie.” 

Mabel crossed the porch from the top of the steps like she’d been fired out of a gun. Dipper was beside her in an instant and they crossed the threshold shoulder-to-shoulder. 

A lot of things happened in Mabel’s head in that moment. The first of which was the realization that Dipper would never choose Chicken Fingers over Salisbury Steak, even at the cost of a brownie. Which made the entire race pointless. The only one she had to worry about snatching her brownie out from under her was Grunkle Stan. But he was a whole other concern, one that was, frankly, a much bigger deal than a not-very-good dessert. Right now, Stan was a mystery. He was always a mystery, just today moreso. Nobody cares what’s inside a closed box. A box that’s cracked open though...that was interesting. 

She’d kissed him on the cheek plenty of times. So it wasn’t too suspicious when she turned on her heal and grabbed him by the arm first then the lapel to pull herself up towards his face and his face down toward her. He didn’t suspect a thing. 

She wasn’t brave enough to kiss him on the mouth without warning. That’d just be wrong anyway. But she also didn’t kiss his cheek, not quite. More like his jaw, right near the corner of his mouth. If he didn’t like her, he’d probably just write it off as her having missed. She dropped so her feet touched the ground and she caught his gaze for just a moment. It was all she needed. 

Seeing that kind of fear in her Grunkle’s eyes should have made her worried, or apologetic or at least a little sad. Instead she felt elated, because she knew. She could tell. He’d been scared by how close that had been to a real kiss and that meant he liked her. That meant he was secretly pining for her and would do anything to keep it a secret in case she didn’t feel the same and her heart broke and soared in the same moment. Then she turned tail and ran back into the shack because, while certain she wouldn’t lose that brownie to Dipper anyway, the bragging rites would be worth a little extra effort. 

“No Puppy-Guarding the Oven!” Stan called. “Go get cleaned up!” 

Mabel was long gone when Stan slumped against the porch railing, heart pounding. He told himself, again and again, a rushed sort of mantra, not to do that thing where someone touches their face where someone kissed them. It was a stupid thing that people only did in movies _don’t do the thing Stanley_ and his hand came up so his fingers could brush the space just near the corner of his mouth. 

There was no risk of being overheard, but the words that came out under his breath were still “Hot Belgian Waffles.” 

Then he headed inside, and to his room, to get, well, un-dressed for dinner. Whatever else was going on in his life, he didn’t want to spill gravy on a suit jacket.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're a dork like me and want to know, Liam Johns is an amalgamation expy of various Marvel Chris', with emphasis on Evans and Hemsworth and I spent way too long on baby name sites figuring out what to call him.


End file.
